


Embrace the Dark

by mossymorgan



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Children, Domestic Darklina, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Kings & Queens, Marriage, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other, Parenthood, Pirates, Post-War, malina has no place in my house srry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-07-18 08:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16114325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossymorgan/pseuds/mossymorgan
Summary: On the day of her coronation, princess Nika Morozova is kidnapped by a band of rebel pirates, fighting for a cause that had all but been wiped from her history books: The Sun Summoner's Revolution.





	1. Prologue

When the Great War came to an end, the country was in chaos.

In the history of Ravka, there had never been such absolute destruction. For the first time, two unique and powerful (in both government _and_ ability) Grisha were going toe to toe, giving everything they had to battle the other. Some fought with the Sun, some with the Dark, and some fought with none, but all people suffered. The Fold was growing at a terrifying rate, and was likely to swallow Novokribirsk and Os Kervo before the next Winter Solstice. Both, of course, were ghost towns. As the war progressed, Kerch was flooded with hoards of Ravkan refugees that lived west of the Unsea.

There was not a safe place in Ravka to be found. Villages were being raided and burned to the ground, rebels were made examples of and given painful, public executions. Teenagers were being drafted into a war that, no matter what side they fought for, would end in tremendous loss. Most, if not all, of the temples and churches had been shut and abandoned, for fear of persecution from the Darkling’s Army. The Grand Palace was in ruins. No matter where you went, you were met with horrible death and rot. Many were considering trying to find a way into Fjerda or the Shu Han, because even being in enemy territory would be safer than staying in Ravka. The war, despite that it had only been a year, seemed that it would be endless.

And then, one day, it all came to a screeching halt.

At the Little Palace, Alina and the Darkling stood before their people and declared an end to the bloodshed. They told the remaining Ravkan citizens (and there weren’t very many) that peace had been made between them, and they were turning their efforts to a shared goal: to repair the damage left not only by themselves, but by the Lantsov Monarchy that came before them. They knew that their fight was doing nothing but harming their home, a place that they loved dearly, and that their differing views didn’t compare to the one that they shared. Of course, this wasn’t the whole truth, but it was what Ravka needed to hear.

In that final battle on The Fold, Alina had a choice to make. And she chose what she felt she absolutely had to choose. In a moment that was nothing less than horrible, she slipped a blade made of Grisha steel in between her best friend’s ribs. David made her a ring of bone, and that third, impossible amplifier should’ve been enough to destroy the Fold, but for whatever reason, it wasn’t. She gave every bit of light she had, and while it killed the surrounding volcra and stunned both sides of the battle, it did not destroy anything. When she came to, they were still surrounded by blinding darkness. That moment was enough for both Alina and Aleksander to realize that they had come to a stalemate. There was no where left for either of them to go. With only a single glance shared between them, there was an understanding. The battle was called off. They left the Fold. Alina and Aleksander found their common goal, which they truly did have, no matter the ways they were going about to get to it.

For centuries, the only thing the Darkling ever wanted was safety and respect for Grisha. It wasn’t until he met Alina that he found there was something else he wanted, too. A companion. An equal. Someone to stand by his side. So, together, they ended the war. And that was the whole truth.

But not all was well. They could not repair the damage left by the Lantsov family when there was still a living heir to the throne. Compromises had to be made. War criminals needed to be punished. Alina, as much as she tried, could only get an official pardon for Genya Safin, who was reinstated in the Palace as an advisor and a leader. Other famous rebels such as Zoya Nazyalensky, Tamar and Tolya Yul-Bataar, Nadia Petrov, and Nikolai Lantsov were tried and found guilty, and were to be punished with execution by hanging.

On the night before the executions were meant to take place, the Grand Palace was in a state of disrepair. It had been damaged during the war, and it was far from being returned to its former glory, but Aleksander thought living there would be better for the image they were trying to portray.

So much about their connection now was _image_. They needed people to not only trust them, but respect them. There had never been Grisha rulers before, and Alina felt as if they were taking every step with a blindfold on.

The Darkling was good at image. Playing his part in their fragile oligarchy seemed like putting on old clothes for Aleksander, and he earned the favor of their people far faster than Alina thought he would. Then again, what she knew about the war was far different than what most Ravkans thought they knew about the war.

That night, Alina carefully made her way down to the cellar, where she knew her friends were sleeping on dirt floors, their belongings and dignity stripped from them.

She dismissed the guards when she got there. Their orders from the Darkling were to be sure that no one entered the makeshift prison, but they were _frightened_ of Alina. They saw her as a supremely powerful Grisha, unheard of anywhere else in the world, and the leader of a vicious rebellion. She looked like a witch out of a storybook when she wandered the halls at night, her white hair seemed to almost glow in the darkness. When they thought she wasn’t looking, they called her _prizräk_ , a word that meant “ghost” in Ravkan. In different circumstances, Alina would’ve thought it was funny to watch the guards run from her like frightened children.

She crept into the cellar, careful not to wake the prisoners. She summoned a bit of light in her palm, but only enough to see the faces of the sleeping people. Alina saw plenty of familiar faces, some of friends, and some of vague members of the rebellion, but it didn’t take her long to find who she was looking for.

On the day of that last battle, Nikolai had been caught in the blast of light with the other volcra. But, unlike the others, he didn’t die. It healed him. He was left with some pretty bad scars, but he was lucky the fall from twenty feet up didn’t kill him. He came out of the ordeal with little damage to speak of.

When she saw him fall, she wanted to run to him. She had kept her eyes open long enough to see the monster seared off of him, the wings that had been on his back moments before turned to dust. At that moment, Alina was frozen in place. The light and the heat tore from her, and it was blinding and painful and _amazing_. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. When it was over, she didn’t go to see her friends. For a few weeks, she wasn’t even sure who made it out alive. She didn’t know if Mal’s body was left to rot somewhere in the Fold. The moment that she found out they had been imprisoned, she knew she was going to set her friends free. But for the rest of her life, she would know that the reason she had so quickly left the Fold with Aleksander was because she was ashamed. She knew that they wouldn’t understand, that they would think she was giving up all they had fought for. There was a part of her that agreed with them.

Nikolai slept sitting up, with his head lolling against the wall. Despite the fact that he was in a dark, damp cellar, he seemed as comfortable as he would’ve been on a feather bed fitted with silk sheets. Alina pressed her hands around the lock and let light and heat go through her, until it fell apart where she was holding it.

“Nikolai,” She whispered, kneeling beside him. “You have to wake up.”

Before he could even wake up and respond, she was untying the binds around his scarred hands. When Alina looked up at him, she thought he would look startled, at least, but to her complete surprise, he was _grinning_ at her.

“I knew you were coming. I knew you would come.” He cupped her face with his freed hands.

“Of course, I was never going to-“

Nikolai interrupted. “How did you escape?”

“Escape?”

“Zoya thought you were dead, but I was sure he was keeping you locked up.”

Alina had never seen this look on his face before. It was a look she saw on the faces of men and their wives during the rebellion, when they almost couldn’t believe they had both come back alive. It was the look Ana Kuya got when she found an unopened bottle of kvas. It was the way Tamar and Nadia looked at each other, the way Genya and David looked at each other. The amount of unadulterated love and relief in his eyes was almost overwhelming. She had never been looked at that way before. And that expression on his face made it that much harder when Alina realized that he didn’t know. None of them knew the war was over, or why it ended.

Nikolai was _beaming_. “We waited for you. We could’ve gotten out days ago, but I knew you would come. Someone from the outside will be here any minute now, he can take us-“

“I’m not his prisoner, Nikolai.” She hesitated. “I can’t go with you.”

His sleep-addled brain took a moment to process what she was telling him, and he pulled away from her.

Alina tried to explain as best she could. “The war is over. I signed a peace treaty with the Darkling.”

He shook his head. “The people won’t trust him, they’ll riot.”

“We’ve already regained the trust of the people, Nikolai. I’m here to free you, and the others. But that’s as far as I can go.”

“He’s a dictator, Alina. The Darkling will _kill_ you if you let him.” He paused. “I know I’ve told you that royalty never begs, but I have to make an exception here. _Please_ leave with me.”

“He won’t stop until he gets what he wants, Nikolai. The Darkling needs balance, someone to keep him in control.” She wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. “I’m the only one that can give him that, and I can’t let any more people die in my name when I know there’s a solution.”

“Please come with me,” He continued, taking her face in his hands again. “We’ll find another way, Alina. Please leave with me tonight.”

She _wished_ she could. The only thing Alina wanted in the world at that moment was to stage a grand escape with Nikolai and all of the people she loved.

“I can’t go with you.” She choked out. “This is what I have to do.”

Nikolai suddenly felt the burden of the small length of time they had left together, ticking away with each passing moment. It occurred to him that he may not see her again for years, if he saw her again at all. And the idea of not kissing Alina Starkov one more time, especially when she was this close to him, was more painful than anything else. He captured her mouth with his, and she kissed him back in fervent measure.

He knew time was running out, and their window of time for escaping was getting smaller and smaller. But Alina was soft and warm, and he loved her far more that he was willing to admit. When they finally pulled apart, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her, afraid that he might forget the details of her face.

“I’m going to marry him, Nikolai.” She whispered.

He worriedly ran his hands over his face. “Is that what you want?”

“It can’t be about what I want. It’s about Ravka. It always has been.”

Nikolai understood. Every step she had taken since he met her was in allegiance to her country. This _was_ what they worked for, even if it wasn’t the outcome he expected. There was still a part of him that was ready to fight against the Darkling, but he knew there would be time for that. He knew they would come back, one day.

“So, how are you planning on getting everyone out of here?”

“Let’s just say…” He pulled the guards’ ring of keys from his pocket, a smug grin on his face. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“You’ve always been a pirate at heart, haven’t you?”

“ _Privateer_.” He corrected.

Both Alina and Nikolai stood, hugging each other tightly one last time. Alina wished him good luck, kissed him on the cheek, and turned to go.

“I’ll see you again, Alina Starkov.”

She turned back to look at him, and found she wasn’t looking at the war scorned man that had fought by her side for the past months, but the handsome prince that was somehow both an idiot and a genius, who flirted with her just to make her angry. For a moment, they were just a boy and a girl.

“You better not, Nikolai Lantsov.”

And with that, she left.

The next morning, the guards returned to escort the prisoners to their executions, only to find that most of them had disappeared. A search party was sent out to look for them, and the guards were released from their duties, lucky to escape being charged with treason. After a year of coming up with nothing, the manhunt came to an end, and it was assumed that the criminals had made it out of the country somehow. From the beginning, any news of the prisoners’ escape was hidden from the Ravkan people.

Within that same year, plans for the Royal Wedding were put into motion. The church at the Little Palace was chosen for the location, and it was rebuilt in a matter of months. When Alina and Aleksander walked into it for the first time, it was unrecognizable. Everywhere they looked was dressed in glorious white and gold, made to match Alina’s gown and kefta. Invitations were sent out to powerful people in allied countries, promising a safe trip across the Fold (Alina would be escorting the sand skiffs back and forth). Hundreds of nobles and merchants attended, eager to get a look at the Darkling and his Sun Saint. The only faces in the crowd that were truly familiar to Alina were Genya and David.

Alina had no living family, but on the night before her wedding, she told Genya of the bitter, old woman that had raised her, and confided in her that she would’ve liked to invite Ana Kuya to her wedding.

The presentation of the wedding brought Alina nostalgia for her first Winter Fete. It was hard for her to believe that fateful party had only been a little bit over a year and a half ago. So much had changed in such a short amount of time, and she was an entirely different woman than she had been back then.

When Alina walked through the doors of the cathedral, the crowd of strangers burst into applause. Her skin seemed to shine, as if she were sunshine embodied. While the priest spoke, her mind continued to wander back to her first weeks at the Little Palace, when her biggest problem was not being able to summon. She thought of the moment Aleksander dragged her to a closet and (while she struggled to understand at the time) showed her what his weakness was. She had been so _naive_ then. Alina thought of Mal, too. Mal, who had loved her, but hadn’t understood. She remembered the panic she felt when he laid dying in front of her, and felt the weight of one of his bones around her finger. Lastly, she thought of Nikolai, and her friends. Where were they? Were they safe? Were they even alive? Alina could still feel the kiss they shared like some kind of phantom limb, ghosting over her lips.

And then, as if on queue, Aleksander was kissing her. Their guests let out another burst of raucous applause, as if they were there to remind Alina that this was nothing more than a performance for the sake of her country. Even if she _could_ find love in her heart for him.

It was not tradition for Ravkan royalty to go on honeymoons (honeymooning was really more of a custom from the Southern Colonies), but even if they had wanted one, the newly married couple did not have time to. They still spent their waking hours trying to repair the physical damage left by the war, and the financial damage left by the generations of the Lantsov Monarchy. As they worked, it was discovered that the Fold was receding a few inches every month (and Alina understood that no matter what she had done, she never would’ve destroyed the Fold. Aleksander was its maker).

Because of the work they were doing, the birth of the future heir wouldn’t come to pass until their fifth year of marriage. Ravka, still in a fragile state, was torn on the subject of a child born of the most powerful Grisha on the planet. Peddlers began selling images of the Sol Koroleva with a baby in her arms. The unborn child was worshipped in temples and churches, but viciously hated by some. Many feared that the child, should it be born with such power, had the potential to become a vicious dictator. Riots were breaking out closer and closer to Os Alta, and the gates to the Grand Palace were closed and locked. Alina was made to spend the remaining months of her pregnancy in bed, or at least on palace grounds. But, even with all the chaos, there was more genuine happiness and intimacy between Alina and Aleksander than there had ever been. The Darkling spent every free moment he had at his wife’s bedside, making sure she had all she asked for.

One morning, late in her pregnancy, they were eating breakfast together and talking, as they often did these days. Getting out of bed was becoming harder and harder for Alina, so her husband had their food brought up to their bedroom, where they sat comfortably and ate for as long as they liked.

“It’s going to be a girl.” Alina said matter-of-factly.

“And how do you know this?”

“It’s motherly instinct.” She grinned. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Aleksander, who was occupied with gently kissing his way up his wife’s forearm, laughed at her.

“What does fatherly instinct count for as of now?”

Alina pulled her wrist away from him. “Very little, until she’s out of my body. But you’re still of use to me until then..”

“Is that so?”

Before she could respond, he tangled his hand in her hair and started mouthing at her neck. Alina gasped, and her eyes fluttered shut. But it didn’t take long for her to come to her senses and gently slap him on the head.

“I did _not_ say you could be a tease.”

Aleksander placed another kiss up on her jaw, and smiled. “My misunderstanding, _Moya Tsarita_.”

“I think I can forgive you.”

Alina pressed her mouth against his, and relished in the way their connection electrified her blood. Something about the pregnancy (which had not been planned) made her feel safe with him. It had started to feel like they were actually married, and with every passing day, she cared for him more and more.

“Aleksander?” She said, when he pulled away.

“Hm?” A tremor went through him, and she thought of how endearing it was that he still had such a visible reaction to her saying his true name.

“I love you.”

The words were a surprise, and Alina didn’t even know that was the way she felt until she said it. On the day of their wedding, she had been sure that there would never be anything like love between them. Alina had stopped hating him long ago, but having a child brought out something different in him. It was unlike anything she had ever seen in him before.

“ _Sol Koroleva_.” He whispered, placing a kiss on her temple.

He didn’t have to respond. Alina knew that they were both happier than they had ever been in their lives (and Aleksander had been alive for a long time).

On the night before the Winter Solstice, Alina went into labor. It had been a warm year so far, with no sign of the brutal winters that Ravka was used to, but that night, it began to snow. It was a long and painful process, that lasted until the sun began to rise the next morning. Sunlight poured through the window as Alina gave birth to a wriggling baby girl that she would name Nika. She and her husband stared in awe of the blessed thing that had come out of their scarred relationship.

As the young princess grew up, Ravka seemed to find peace. That year, there was financial prosperity, and most of the war’s damage had been cleaned up and repaired. Nika was a beautiful, happy baby, and those that had feared her quickly fell in love. As per usual, there were always people that worshipped Alina and her daughter as saints. Peddlers sold their “bones” as trinkets for passing travelers, and many churches had shrines dedicated to the mother and daughter. Alina, fearing for her child’s safety, rarely traveled outside of Os Alta with Nika because of this.

Despite that, the Morozovas’ were a wonderful family. Nika brough out something in both Alina and Aleksander that neither knew existed. Both found solace through their new-found family in a way that they couldn’t before their daughter was born. Alina could’ve spent hours playing make-believe with Nika and Genya in the empty halls of the palace, and nothing brought her more happiness than seeing her husband swing Nika into his arms, smiling and talking along with the child’s gibberish. She thought of the Darkling that she had known as a teenager, and knew that she would’ve laughed at the idea of who he was now.

 _But not all was happy news_.

As Nika’s fifth birthday approached, it was decided by the triumvirate that Aleksander would act as a Grisha Examiner for Nika during a public ceremony, in order to convince Ravka that they had nothing to hide. There was a lot of talk about the nature of Nika’s Grisha abilities, about whether she would be a Sun Summoner or another Darkling. Few wondered if she might be both, if the royal couple hadn’t created an entirely new species of Grisha power.

For the first time since she was a teenager, Alina was having trouble trusting her husband. He hadn’t actually done anything to make her feel this way, and she was brushing it off as motherly instinct. But there was a horrible anxiety that should Nika be a Sun Summoner, Aleksander would use her for his own ulterior motives, the same way he used her during the war.

When the day finally came, Alina Morozova kneeled before her daughter, kissed each of her little, chubby hands, and looked at her with what could only be described as terrible fear in her eyes.

“Nika, my baby. My love.” She whispered. “Do you remember what I’ve told you about the Grisha?”

The girl nodded. “Yes, mama.”

“Do you remember when I told you what you have inside you, baby? That you might be a very special Grisha?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Well, mama doesn’t know what is gonna happen today. But I need you to listen to me very closely, okay?”

Nika just stared at her, wide-eyed and confused. She had never seen her mother look so vulnerable and afraid.

“When you’re in front of all those people today, you might feel a light calling to you. It will be warm, and comforting, but you can’t reach for it. You have to call on the dark, Nika. You have to embrace the dark, instead of the light.”

There was a moment of silence before Alina pleaded with her. “I need you to promise me you’ll do that, baby.”

The young princess did not understand, but she promised her mother, afraid of getting in trouble. And that day, when Nika stood before a crowd, and her father gripped her wrist, the room flooded with pitch darkness.

And in that dark, in the comforting familiarity of it, Alina was no longer the Queen. She wasn’t Alina Morozova, or Sankta Alina, or the twenty-eight year old that married a man that had once been her enemy when she was little more than a teenager. For a moment, she was just Alina Starkov, overcome with relief.

 

 


	2. One

There had never been a year when Nika Morozova awoke on her birthday and there was no snow on the ground.

When she was a little girl, she would jump out of her bed before dawn and tear the curtains open, anxious to see that perfect world of white. As she got older, the novelty wore off and she was more often found sleeping well past noon or out near the woods, practicing with her bow and arrow.

Archery had been Alina’s idea. When Nika got the age where lessons and dressing for grand feasts with Ravkan nobles became a chore, the Queen had a beautiful bow crafted for her. The princess would go out with an instructor thrice a week until she got the hang of it herself. Aleksander had been against it at first and often voiced his concerns about Nika relying on tools rather than exercising her own power, but Alina assured him that it was only a hobby. After all, their daughter found no joy in sewing or reading (she took after her mother, in that sense).

So, on the morning of her eighteenth birthday, only hours before her coronation as Queen of Ravka, Nika was out in the snow, shooting at birds.

 

“Nika Elizaveta Morozova, if you think I won’t drag you back to your room myself, you are sorely mistaken!”

One of her arrows shot off in the wrong direction, missing a red sparrow and getting caught in a tree branch.

“Genya,” Nika spun on her heel. “You broke my focus. I was going to stuff that one.”

“I’m gonna break and stuff something else if you don’t come back with me right now.”

She grinned, and packed up her things. “I’m sorry they made you come to get me.”

Genya shook her head. “I was the last resort, honey. Even your father was helping search the palace when I ran out here.”

“Well, I’m sure mother was thrilled to see him out of the war room.” Nika rushed to catch up with her. “It has to be going on a year now, he’s been planning.”

“He’s proud of his little girl.” Genya hooked her arm with Nika’s. “Why wouldn’t he want to take you ‘round the country?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I was starting to get worried he was going to blow off the coronation.”

“Very funny.”

As her eighteenth birthday approached, the Darkling had revealed to his family and advisors that he was planning a trip to take Nika around Ravka, and possibly even to Kerch or the Southern Colonies. He claimed it would be a royal tour for his daughter to finally see the world.

Alina had decided when Nika was a baby that she wasn’t to leave Os Alta without Alina’s explicit permission to do so. Despite that, when Aleksander announced the trip, she had been fond of the idea. The Queen knew it was about time that the heir to Ravka’s throne see what she would be ruling, socialize with her own people. But when Alina discovered on her own that he planned on taking an army’s worth of soldiers with them, she grew suspicious. He claimed it was for their protection, but she knew well enough that any Darkling could protect themselves fine. Alina was afraid that he was looking for the Firebird, an amplifier that was previously thought to be the third of Ilya Morozova’s amplifiers.

When Alina discovered she was pregnant with Nika, she made very clear to her husband how their child was going to grow up. There would be no amplifiers. Not even talk of them in her lessons. If Nika were ever to get an amplifier, she would have to do it herself. Aleksander agreed, but only if they wiped talk of the was as much as they could from her textbooks. As far as their daughter would know, Alina and Aleksander helped overthrow a greedy, prejudiced royal family that had been driving Ravka into the ground.

After hours of arguing, Aleksander assured her that the army was only a precaution. The war was long over, and there was nothing he cared for more in the world than his child. And when he said that, they both believed it was the truth. The planning of the trip continued, and not another word passed between them about it.

“Where was she?” Alina sighed with relief as Genya and Nika came through the door.

“Out shooting birds by the banya.” Genya gently pushed towards her wardrobe.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because somebody switched your daughter with a tracker’s child at birth.”

“Saints, that poor couple. Imagine their terror when they discovered their daughter was a Darkling.”

“Hey!” Nika called from behind them, tying up her kefta. “I am perfectly fine at being a Darkling.”

Alina laughed, and walked over to Nika. “Yes, I can tell by the way you tied this up wrong.”

“It is not my fault the fancy ones always have laces. All of the other ones have snaps, and snaps don’t cinch my waist like they’re trying to kill me.” Nika huffed in frustration.

“Are you nervous?” Alina took the laces from her and began to tie them.

“A little,” she admitted. “I guess I just want to make a good impression.”

“You will, baby.” Alina pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Besides, you have a long time before you’re going to have to be dealing with other countries. You have nothing to worry about.”

While Nika would be taking on the title of Queen, she would not be responsible for royal duties until her parents retired or she married, whichever came first. Until then, she would stand by her parents’ side and learn what it took to be Ravkan royalty.

And Nika was absolutely dreading it. She could not figure out why for the life of her, but every step that took her closer to the cathedral of the Little Palace was terrifying and draining. It was beyond being nervous, she was petrified of standing before the nobles of surrounding countries, before her father and mother, and accepting a new title. The weeks leading up to it had been nauseating, and as Alina placed the princess’ crown upon Nika’s head for the final time, she had to blink back tears.

The carriage ride to the Grand Palace was not a long one. Nika had wanted to walk (if only to take even longer getting there), but the snow was too deep. She would usually take a carriage with her parents, but Aleksander wanted to wait until the ceremony to see her. So, she was to ride only with a guard.

Nika found herself staring at said guard more than once, intrigued and a bit nervous. He was young, the same age as her by the look of him. A scar peeked out of his collar. She had never seen him before.

“What’s your name?” Nika asked, suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Your name. I try to learn the names of all the guards, and I don’t know yours.”

He looked up at her. “Forgive me, Moya Tsarita.”

“You can call me _Nika_.” She grumbled. “I’m not the Queen.”

“Aren’t we heading to your coronation?” He grinned.

“You’ve just proven my point. If we are on the way to the coronation, I can’t be the Queen yet.”

“My mistake,” He stifled a laugh. “Moya _Princessa_.”

Nika threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine, I don’t need to know your name.”

The guard sat up a bit straighter. “My name is Volkodav Nazyalensky.”

Nazyalensky. Something about that name was familiar to her. She was sure she had read it somewhere, or heard her mother say it once. Nika thought that maybe Volkodav’s mother was some Ravkan noble who wanted her son to join the Royal Guard, but he certainly didn’t _look_ like the son of a noble.

“Your name is familiar.” She said.

“Is it?”

Nika nodded once, but did not get the chance to say much else. The carriage jolted to a halt, and Volkodav Nazyalensky stepped out. The princess followed after him with more questions, but he had vanished.

“Something wrong, Nika?” Genya said, walking up behind her with David in tow.

“The guard in my carriage…” She hesitated. “I’d never seen him before.”

“Husband hunting, are you?”

“No!” Nika’s face scrunched up. “It wasn’t like that. His name was-“

A peal of deep, rumbling church bells erupted into the air above them as everyone began to make their way into the old cathedral.

“Time to go!” Genya squealed. “See you in there, star shine.”

David nodded to her. “Good luck, Moya Princessa.”

As she watched the couple hurry away, Nika had a passing thought that the bells sounded more like a funeral march. With a deep breath, and her head held high, she walked to the church in rhythm with the song.

-

After the war, the cathedral had been re-built in honor of the newly-wed King and Queen. Unlike the one that had stood before, it was designed to let in as much light as possible. Where the ceiling might’ve been above the nave, there was a great glass dome that sunlight poured through when the sun was in the center of the sky.

At exactly noon, more than one hundred people were seated beneath that artisan glass dome, waiting for Nika to walk down the aisle towards her mother and father. Despite the fact that she had the ceremony committed to memory after months of rehearsals, Nika felt as if she’d forgotten everything she was supposed to do the moment she stepped up to the doors. She could hear the murmur of the crowd from inside, and the thought of facing them made her stomach turn.

“You’ve done this one hundred times,” She whispered to herself. “The only difference is more people are watching you, that’s all.”

A man cleared his throat behind her, and Nika turned to face him, hands up in defense and ready to summon. It was truly only in times of anxiety that she ever raised a hand, despite the fact that she had absolute control over her ability. Something about using it felt wrong like she was meant to be doing something else with her life. It was for that reason she had taken so well to archery, eager to learn how to protect herself outside of being a Grisha.

It was Volkodav, the guard that had ridden over in the carriage with her. He confidently strode toward her, his collar undone. Nika could see more of the scar that crept just up under his jaw.

“Nazyalensky.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you always talk to yourself?”

Nika’s face went flush. “You must be hearing things.”

“Must be,” Volkodav stopped. “How long before you go in?”

Her hands rose again, darkness licking around her fingers. It was a trick that was more for show than do cause damage, but it was certain to make most people nervous.

“Shouldn’t you know? Shouldn’t you _already_ be inside?”

“Saints,” His voice softened, “I’m a new recruit, my only task today was to accompany you.”

Nika clutched her hands to her and the darkness dissipated into nothing. Her anxiety didn’t often get to her, but this wouldn’t be the first time she frightened someone under her father’s employ half to death.

“My apologies,” She shook her head, “I was already nervous when you walked up. I don’t usually make a habit of threatening the guards on their first day.”

For the first time since they met, Nika was able to look at Volkodav with no suspicious connotation. Besides his collar, it was obvious that he was very neat. His clothes were pressed, shoes shined, copper-colored hair swept back. Volkodav was tall, taller than her, and well-built. Nika couldn’t deny that he had a confident air about him that was very attractive. It was rare that she met a man that would look her straight in the eye. All of them were afraid of offending her as if she were some sensitive, dainty thing.

“It’s alright. I don’t usually make a habit of sneaking up on princesses, so I think I can forgive you.”

Nika smiled as he walked towards her. “Since you’re here, I ought to tell you now that I’m not the snobbish witch that the other guards make me out to be.”

“Do they say that about you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. They just don’t seem very fond of me, so I assume that’s what they’re thinking.”

“Well, let me be the first to think otherwise.”

Nika’s face went hot, and she almost felt foolish for swooning so easily. It was unlike her to bend under the first compliment a man gave her (and it was barely a compliment, all he had said was that he didn’t think she was a snob), but it also wasn’t very often that she was so casually flirted with.

As he stood before her, she bowed her head slightly. “That is very kind of you, Volkodav Nazyalensky.”

“Because you’ve shared something about yourself, I might as well tell you,” He paused. “My name, it isn’t Nazyalensky.”

Volkodav stepped so close to her that Nika could feel his breath on her. She went to step back, but all that was behind her was the door.

“What is it?”

He looked down at her. “My name is _Lantsov_.”

Now, _that_ was a name she knew well.

Nika went to summon, but Volkodav shoved her against the door, stopping her from raising her hands. Before she could shout for help, he held something to her neck, and Nika felt a pinch before her body went slack. Volkodav held her to him, and darkness began to crowd her vision. Slowly, she was losing all sense of feeling and motion, but that didn’t stop panic from rising in her stomach.

“You’re going to want to put your head down.” He whispered to her.

Confused, she summoned the strength to do what he asked. She had thought they would leave out the front, where she knew no one would be. But Volkodav pulled some sort of flare gun from beneath his uniform and kicked open the doors of the cathedral.

The crowd had little time to look and gasp before he shot the flare gun into the air and straight through the glass dome. In a moment, Nika understood what he had meant as the entire thing shattered and rained down on everyone. He held the princess to the front of him and clipped a rope that seemed to have fallen straight from the sky to his belt.

As Nika’s vision was about to give out, they were lifted into the air with brute force. And the last thing she saw was not the crowd or even her father as he clapped his hands together, darkness and thunder shaking the building. The last thing Nika saw before being pulled into the sky was her mother’s face. Alina did not look angry. Her face showed no sign of fear. No, the only thing Nika saw in her mother was _absolute defeat_. It almost looked like recognition.

“Nikolai Lantsov sends his regards!” Volkodav shouted, his voice echoing throughout the cathedral.

The world went black.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Two

Nika fell in and out of consciousness, the sounds of unfamiliar voices and bits of dialogue refusing to stick in her head.

She had been drugged. It was just weeks before that Nika had overheard her mother and Genya discussing a Kerch poison that was on the rise. It was potent enough to knock out a grown man for hours with a single drop, but tame enough to do it without killing him. It was used mostly by the Ketterdam gang scene, but illegal loads of it had recently infiltrated Ravkan ships. In high doses, it was known to cause amnesia.

There was no way for Nika to know how long she'd been asleep or where she was. Each time it seemed like she might finally open her eyes, she was yanked back down into the dark. Her thoughts would just slip away, leaving her foggy and confused. And yet, there was one name that wouldn't disappear.

 _Lantsov_.

It was a name she knew well, a name that brought shame to the heart of any Ravkan. It was a name that meant many things: tyrant, murderer, rapist.

Before the war, the Tsar of Ravka was a man called Feodor Lantsov. He was born from a line of greedy, power-hungry men that would financially (and otherwise) drive Ravka into the ground, and Feodor's sons had been no different. Vasily, killed early in the war, was as selfish as he was stupid, and was no better than a drunk. Nikolai, the youngest, was an impulsive, arrogant bastard, and barely had claim to the throne as it was. He was killed in action, one of the last to die during the Victory at the Shadow Fold. Rumor had it that they looked down on Grisha and treated them like slaves, despite what the Darkling and the Second Army had done for the country. Nika's father had said to her on more than one occasion that if not for the war, Grisha would have died out in Ravka years before she was born. She had learned time and time again that the Lantsovs' were not only clueless tyrants but better off dead than alive.

"She looks like her mother."

"Did you think she'd look like Tolya?"

"Very funny."

"I think she's waking up."

"Finally."

"I told you Volk used too much."

"I'll go alert the crew. Be nice, Zoya."

"Don't ask for things you can't have, Nikolai."

When Nika opened her eyes, the world swayed and rocked around her. Her entire body ached, her throat was dry, and she was still wearing her coronation _kefta_.

She sat up. "I'm going to be sick."

The woman, Zoya, slid her a bucket, and Nika retched into it. For however long she'd been asleep, she did not know if she'd been given any food or water.

"Graceful like your mother, too."

"I need water."

"We have you captive, _prinsessa_. What makes you think I'll be taking demands?"

Again, Nika gagged over the bucket. "Whatever misplaced vendetta you have against my parents has nothing to do with me. I'm a bargaining chip, you're not going to kill me."

"Don't be so sure."

"I need water."

Zoya, without another word or look, got up and left the room.

Nika looked down at her bound wrists, almost admiring the steel work. It was Grisha, for sure, though where a band of rebels would find access to a rare commodity was beyond her. They could have a Grisha among them, but it would be unlikely that they were properly taught.

There was a small window in the room, and she was able to move enough to just see out of it. Like she suspected, they were on a ship, and no where near land. But that was a good sign. The Grisha Triumvirate would certainly send the entire fleet of battleships to come and find her. Wherever they were, they couldn't be far from Ravka.

"Do they teach swimming at the Grand Palace?"

Nika recognized the voice as belonging to the man that had been talking with Zoya when she woke up; the man who claimed to be Nikolai Lantsov. She turned as he set down a wooden cup on the table.

"They certainly didn't when I lived there. I had to join the army to learn, among other things."

Wary of her company, Nika said nothing. It was true that she had learned Nikolai Lantsov was arrogant and impulsive, but intelligent as well. The Apparat's Cause had made use of the young prince's inventions and knowledge acquired throughout his time in the First Army and as a sailor. Nika was tough, but never good with her words. She was not about to let him take advantage of that.

"It would be a truly impressive task if you got into the water. Even if you managed to get out of your bindings, which you won't, you would still have to make it to the deck without any of my crew seeing you." He said. "And in that dress, you'd sink like a stone. That's _if_ you know how to swim, of course."

Her dress suddenly felt much heavier than it had when she stood up; the layers sticking to her skin in the humidity of the room. She felt itchy, unclean, and a desperate need to bathe.

"Not a word. I see you're unlike your mother in that way."

Nika's eyes lifted to meet him at the mention of her mother. It was true that Nikolai Lantsov and her mother had been allies during the War (and possibly more, if Nika listened to the rumors), but her mother had been viciously manipulated by the Apparat. Friend, ally, or otherwise, Nikolai had played a part in that manipulation. He was a war criminal and a traitor to his country. That was what Nika had been taught.

"Alina could barely keep her mouth shut, especially in the presence of authority." He smiled. "I watched it nearly get her killed several times."

The way he casually spoke of her made Nika uneasy.

"But _you_..." Nikolai stepped towards her, his eyes still and set on her.

Nika shrunk back and lifted her hands in defense, forgetting her binds.

"...You have Alina's face, but not that fire. There's a coldness to you, Nika. A thing in you that comes from your father, that makes you an excellent heir to the Darkling's throne. There's an apathy behind those eyes."

For an agonizing moment, the apparent prince said nothing. He only watched her, his trained eye seeing something that she could not. His gaze made her skin itch (or perhaps that was the days without bathing).

When he finally moved his eyes off of her, it was to pull a key from his pocket. To Nika's surprise, he stuck it into her binds, and the chains holding her to the floor fell from them. Her hands were free, but not completely. The cuffs, though separated, stayed to her wrists.

"It's a bit of Shu technology," Nikolai said. "You'll have the freedom to move, but not to use your abilities. Something in the metal dampens them. We have them for research, but they seemed necessary to use in this case."

"I don't understand," Nika spoke. "Why give me the freedom to move?"

"I want you to join me for dinner. In the future, you'll eat with my family and the crew. But tonight, you will join me in my cabin for a meal."

"And you don't think it's foolish to believe the girl you kidnapped will willingly sit with you?"

There was a glint in his eye like he was thinking " _Ah, there it is_ ". A smile spread across his face.

"I think it's foolish that you think you have a choice." He said, turning on his heel. "A member of my crew will be in with water to bathe in and clean clothes. Your room is guarded as well, so I wouldn't be making any escape plans if I were you."

The door swung shut behind him, and Nika ran for the cup he'd brought in. She gulped down the water, more aware of thirst than she had ever been in her life.

While she was under the watch of dangerous rebels (if they truly were who they said they were), the situation was not dire. They were giving her food, water, clothes. If anything, she would eat, see the ocean, and be back home by tomorrow's sunset. Yes, that was the case. She could already see Genya fussing over her ruined coronation dress; another ceremony already in the midst of planning.

Nika Morozova would not be staying long on this ship.

 


End file.
